Charms
by Drown Me In Blue
Summary: Shuuhei is in love with his partner, Kensei. Kensei is in love with someone else, and thinks that Shuuhei is in love with the same person. Add in a traitor, a hostile environment, and a missing Commander, and only chaos can result.


**Pairing: **_Kensei Muguruma x Shuuhei Hisagi_

**Music:** Bewitched_, by Blood On the Dance Floor, ft. Lady Nogrady_

**Word count:** ~ 7400

**Rating:** M

**Read this, please****: **_This one needs far more explanation than it probably should, but it is a monster and absolutely took over. Okay. __**Explanation**__: The prompt here got me thinking, "What if _kido_ was like magic spells? What if shinigami were like mages?" And so _Charms_ was born. Goddess and Green Man help us all. Furthermore, I'm pretending that the Vizards consist of Tousen and Gin and their like, and are in league with the Arrancar (dark mages, pretend, or something like them). No idea where Shinji and crew are. Ah, well. The original plot monster was planted by _**Tousen's Princess**_, who wanted to see something with Kensei and Shuuhei. I'm so sorry. It kind of…mutated._

* * *

_**Prompt 33: **__Charms_

* * *

The first time they met, they were enemies.

Shuuhei faced the taller man across the expanse of darkened water, clinging to the ash-smudged sword that was planted against the stone, the only thing holding him upright. The small waves of the newly created river lapped at the edges of the rock he stood on, negating any _kido_ he might have tried to cast. He had an earth and air affinity, not a water affinity, and any running water canceled out his power just as soon as he called it up.

"Let me go," he hissed, but it might have been more convincing if his voice hadn't broken in the middle of it.

The pale-haired bastard on the bank just scoffed at him, staring down a short, aristocratic nose at Shuuhei's somewhat battered form. "Right. And I just let you walk, after chasing you how many miles for that stupid stone? I think not."

If he hadn't been shaking with exhaustion and absolutely, damnably _helpless_, Shuuhei would have sworn at him, or at the very least rolled his eyes. As it was, he managed a soft snort at the Shinigami and leaned further away from the water. "Right," he echoed disbelievingly. "And that smooth, suave, oh-so-convincing delivery is supposed to make me hand over the Hōgyoku to you? To quote a moron, _I think not_."

The other man bristled, face flushing with anger and making his white eyebrows stand out in sharp relief. There was a golden ring in one—gold marking a top-ranking Shinigami, probably a Captain at the least. Baiting him was quite likely one of the most stupidly suicidal things Shuuhei had done in a long time, but he was tired, wet, cold, hungry, and exhausted, and couldn't bring himself to care that he was a lone Vizard-affiliated Shinigami facing his greatest enemy.

But, before the bad-tempered, newly indignant Shinigami could swamp him with a wave—or something equally demeaning and deadly—a soft call of "Kensei! Stop!" pulled him up short. Both Shuuhei and the other Shinigami turned towards the sound of the voice, and Shuuhei blinked in surprise.

The man standing there was older than Shuuhei, and only a little taller, with long white hair that framed kind, wise brown eyes. His elegantly handsome face was softened by a compassionate smile as he looked Shuuhei over and raised a hand as though in reassurance.

"Hello," he said kindly. "I'm Juushiro Ukitake, Captain-Commander of the Shinigami. That Orb you took—it's vital to our defense of the town. Can you give it back, please?"

And with that smile, Shuuhei fell in love.

But not with the graceful, cheery, good-natured Captain-Commander, of course.

That would have been too easy.

No. He fell in love with the look on Kensei's face when he looked at the lovely Shinigami leader. With the open adoration in an otherwise gruff, prickly man. With the utter, hopeless _love_ with which Kensei Muguruma viewed his Captain-Commander, and the never-ending irony of Shuuhei's own situation because of it.

Without a word, he handed over the Hōgyoku, and allowed Kensei to bind him and drag him back to the camp of the Gotei 13.

And if he rather failed at keeping his mouth shut along the way, and happened to rile the handsome Shinigami once or twice—or a dozen times—then he dismissed it as all fair and good.

If he had to have his heart broken in the same moment he fell in love, at least he wouldn't go peaceably.

* * *

_**Several years later:**_

_Kensei stormed into the main hall of the inn, slammed down the money to cover the room, and jerked his head at the waiting Shuuhei. "Come on. They won't be following for another few days, but some of us actually have duties to take care of."_

_Shuuhei fell into step beside him, looking solemn and slightly wistful. "You knew Juushiro was going to find the Scientist. It's all he's wanted for ten years now. Give up, Kensei. His heart has already left you."_

_"Give up? Like you have?" Kensei glared at the dark-haired man. "I don't think so. The second Juushiro is unhappy, I'm slaughtering the interfering bastard and taking his place. And don't try to say you'd do anything else, either."_

Shuuhei picked morosely at his food, which was hardly appetizing on a good day. Now, when he had lost what little appetite he'd ever had for the thankfully unrecognizable vegetables-and-meat-and-mystery-gravy mush on his plate, it was one step shy of nauseating. Elite peacekeeping mercenaries the Shinigami might be, but their cook needed to be strung up over a bed of coals until he actually lived up to his title.

But poking at the slimy grey blob didn't make for a successful distraction, and his thoughts drifted right back to where they shouldn't be, and where they had managed to linger all day—his handsome, haunting partner, who was currently in the middle of a deep sulk.

_Oh, Kensei_, he thought sadly and a little grimly, remembering the words that had passed between them at the inn, a long, morose month ago. _If only you knew. Give up? That's exactly what I've done, all the time I've known you. That 'anything else' you scoff at is exactly what I've done—I've given up all hope of ever being happy, and helped you try to recover the man of your dreams, because I knew it would make _you_ happy. _

With a sigh, he pushed the plate away, picked up his teacup, and tried to focus on the reports he had spread out in front of him. Pages and pages of reports, because his partner—_and damn the moody bastard to hell and back_, Shuuhei thought darkly, in no mood to be kind—was too busy brooding over a lost love to pull his own weight.

"Just needs to have an affair with a half-sister and he'll be a proper Byronic hero," he muttered, and sighed again, inking his pen and managing all of seven additional words before he was once more overcome with melancholy and slumped down against the table. It didn't help that he was still regarded warily by the rest of the Shinigami of the Gotei 13, due to his past as a supporter of the Vizard and their sometime-allies the Arrancar—though _regarded warily_ was a bit of an understatement. _Reviled _was probably far closer to the truth. Shuuhei couldn't blame them, really. After all, they spent all of their lives fighting against Vizards, Arrancar, and those disrupting the peace, and then their Captain-Commander up and brought one back home with him (though, knowing how Ukitake was with strays, it probably had just been more of a surprise that he _hadn't_ done it before).

They still hated him, though, and feared him in equal measure.

Shuuhei picked up his head before he could manage to smear the blue ink all over his cheek and glanced covertly around the Dining Hall of the Gotei 13's castle headquarters. Yes, as ever, there were a good three tables between himself and everyone else. It made him wonder, sometimes, why he even bothered coming here to eat in the first place. Or why he ate at all.

_Enough of that_, he berated himself silently, scowling down at the neat lines of his own script in front of him. _Depressed is acceptable. Suicidal is pushing it a bit far, baka! After all, it's not as though…_

_What?_ That was a much smaller voice, sharper and meaner and tinged with the darkness Shuuhei was so very, very good at. _It's not as though he doesn't know you exist? But what good is knowledge without care? If you vanished now, would he ever notice? Or would he still be stuck pining over Captain-Commander Ukitake and obsessing about the handsome brunet Ukitake brought back with him?_

With an inward groan, Shuuhei resigned himself to the reality of getting no work done, and, in turn, getting chewed out by Byakuya Kuchiki, the overseer for his and the broody Byron's unit. However, with Kensei in their shared quarters, the only productive alternative to agonizing over his reports was to eat, and that was even less appealing. He could go to the training grounds, but the terrifyingly good-natured Captain Unohana had threatened to strap him to a bed in the infirmary if he didn't let his wounds from the last mission heal at least a bit more. And then there was the ever-reliable escape to the library, but that felt a bit too much like hiding—and therefore a bit too close to the truth—for Shuuhei's peace of mind.

"Damned brooding bastard," he muttered again, even if it was just as ineffective as the first dozen times, and changed absolutely nothing.

"Dare I suspect that you're badmouthing your partner, Hisagi?" a cheerful voice teased, and Shuuhei had to bite back a groan. Of all the people in the Gotei 13 that he hadn't wanted to see…

Nevertheless, he picked himself up from his slumped position over the inkpot and half-rose, giving the Shinigami's Captain-Commander a quick salute, because he was still officially on duty, even if he was recuperating. "Sir. I thought you would still be resting after your travels. Are you feeling well?"

Juushiro Ukitake slid into the chair across from him, the tall, brown-haired man who had been his shadow ever since his return taking the seat next to him. The stranger—Juushiro's lover, as everyone knew, and the reason Kensei was sulking—eyed Shuuhei as if he were a possible threat, while Juushiro rolled his brown eyes at the formality and flapped a hand at the younger man, urging him to take his seat again.

"I'm fine," he assured the other Shinigami. "We're actually leaving on another mission as soon as we eat. We sailed up the river, so there wasn't much to do but sleep and—" Suddenly, he cut himself off, a look of horror coming over his face as his mind registered what his mouth had been about to say. Mortified and blushing, he took refuge behind his soup bowl with a sound that could _not_ have been a squeak.

The stranger, Shuuhei could see, was trying very hard to smother a chuckle.

Clearing his throat and changing the subject—because he could be merciful, when the occasion called for it—Shuuhei nodded to the brunet and offered a perfunctory half-smile. "Hello. I don't believe we've met before. I'm Shuuhei Hisagi."

The other man nodded in return. He didn't try to shake hands, and Shuuhei didn't offer. "Shunsui Kyoraku. You're new? A bit old to be enlisting, aren't you?" The words were friendly enough, but the tone held something sharp and wary beneath the surface. Shuuhei heard it and understood it immediately—after all, anyone who could see or feel reiatsu would know that he was far from being a simple Gotei 13 member. Kyoraku was simply reacting accordingly.

Still, it stung just a little bit, because Juushiro was one of the only Shinigami who accepted him, and while having his past thrown in Juushiro's face wouldn't likely turn the Captain-Commander against him immediately, it _could_. Someday. If Shuuhei were unlucky.

And he knew by now that he always was.

Shuuhei pushed to his feet, corking his inkbottle and hurriedly gathering up his paperwork and pen. "Sorry," he told the appalled Juushiro. "I've got to get these finished for Commander Kuchiki. Perhaps I'll see you later, sir." He bowed his head to Kyoraku, who looked slightly startled, as well. "Sir. Good day."

He wanted to call it a dignified retreat, but Shuuhei knew the truth of it.

He fled.

* * *

"Shunsui," Juushiro hissed, rounding on his lover. His normally tranquil eyes flashed with brown fire, and he pinned the other Commander in place with a fierce stare. "What was that for? He just introduced himself! That was all!"

From the way Shunsui shifted uneasily, he was obviously trying to concoct some way of getting out of this. After several moments, his mouth firmed into a thin line, and he said firmly, "What in the name of the King are you doing with a damned _Vizard supporter_, Juushiro? Since when did the Gotei 13 open its doors to _his_ type?"

Juushiro's eyes narrowed into warning slits of brown. "His _type_?" he asked icily. "Do you mean someone drafted by the Vizard almost as soon as he could walk on his own, because his family had already enlisted? Someone who spent _years_ as a loyal follower, and then betrayed the only family he had ever known when I asked him to? Someone who gets ever filthy, horrid, and awful mission, just because the dispatchers think the Gotei 13 would be better off without him? Someone like that, Shunsui?" He waited a beat, then demanded, "When you talk about _his type_, are you talking about brave, selfless soldiers who have thrown themselves between an ally and an attacker more times than I can count? Who've saved _my_ life more times than even you have?"

Shunsui stared at him for a moment, grey eyes surprised, and then slowly shook his head. "Yes," he said simply. "Someone like that. No matter what he does now, he's still a follower of the Vizards. I might not be a shining example of an officer, myself, but at least I never threw my lot in with those half-Shinigami creatures." He reached out and took Juushiro's hand in his own, eyes firm and serious. "Juushiro, I wouldn't say this if I didn't think it necessary, but please. Get rid of him. He's detrimental to your safety, and the safety of the entire Gotei 13. Than man has killed before in the name of the Vizards, and he'll do it again. I just don't want it to be one of us, when it happens."

Turning his gaze to his soup, Juushiro said nothing more, and began to eat. After a tense moment, Shunsui sighed and did the same, and the subject was dropped.

But it wasn't forgotten.

* * *

Shuuhei ended up, after an hour of wandering, in the library, and abandoned his reports to the nearest table as he immersed himself in the stacks. The Archivist wasn't present, but he was probably the only person in the Gotei 13 whom Shuuhei could truly call a friend, and had given Shuuhei free rein to use the library whenever he wished.

He took advantage of that permission often—maybe too often, Shuuhei knew. The library was his sanctuary, his haven from the rest of the Gotei 13, and he often retreated here when he should have remained and faced down his opponents among the other Shinigami. He didn't like to think of himself as a coward, but Shuuhei was self-aware enough to realize that that was exactly what his policy of non-confrontation bordered on, at times.

Sighing—and he was doing an annoying amount of that today, and had been for the last month, damn Kensei to hell for his infectious moodiness!—Shuuhei claimed a thick volume on an obscure branch of agricultural earth _kido_ and settled in one of the padded window seats, trying to focus on the tiny words.

It didn't work, of course.

Damn his magic, too, for giving him an ear into Juushiro's conversation with the new Commander, he thought irritably, though he knew that twenty years of staying alive amidst the backstabbing and maneuvering of the Arrancar, where eavesdropping was often the only thing that kept one live, wasn't likely to vanish in a mere three years of safety. It was hardly even something conscious, by now.

And Juushiro hadn't said anything. Shuuhei's heart clenched, feeling like it turned to stone in his chest mid-beat. He knew—because he was rational and intelligent, if nothing else—that Juushiro hadn't been _giving in_ to the argument, but somehow it still felt that way. Somehow, Shuuhei got the sickening, sinking feeling that it would only be a matter of time before something happened and the Shinigami either drove him away or executed him. The latter was more likely than the former, and he half-wondered why he felt so damnably _sad_ at the idea of these people he had lived and worked with for three years turning their backs on him all at once. He wasn't even _liked_. Why should that make him feel as though the bottom had fallen out of his world?

"Brooding will do you no good whatsoever," a firm voice said, and someone plucked the treatise on earth _kido_ out of his hands. Shuuhei blinked at the absence for a moment, then looked up at the blond Shinigami standing in front of him.

"Kira," he said in surprise. "How long have you been here?" He must have been far more distracted than he realized, for anyone to be able to sneak up on him. The little part of him that was still used to the Arrancar and Vizards—a large part, actually, if he was truthful—screamed at him that his carelessness would get him killed, but somehow, Shuuhei couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

Kira frowned at him, as though he knew what Shuuhei was thinking, and smacked him lightly on the head with the book. "Enough, Hisagi," he chided. "No more moping. If you're not going to do anything productive, come help me shelve books." He turned with a snapping flare of his Shinigami robes, the black material a stark contrast to his very pale skin, and strode towards the wide desk near the doors. When Shuuhei hesitated, he sighed and ordered, "_Now_, Hisagi."

A touch sheepishly, Shuuhei followed, and allowed the Archivist to thrust several stacks of books into his arms to be sorted. "I suppose you want me to tell you what's wrong?" he asked wearily.

Kira gave him a dark look through his floppy blonde hair, because the forelock was forever falling over his face and he couldn't be bothered to brush or tie it back. The look suited him, though. "No, Shuuhei. I called you over to glare at you for my own health, because I am masochistic in that way." There was a beat as Shuuhei tried to puzzle out if he was being sarcastic—it was hard, because Kira was strange like that—and the blonde Shinigami rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, you baka, so talk."

As if to emphasize his point, an intimidatingly thick volume on water _kido_ thumped down on the table right between them.

Always able to recognize a threat when it presented itself—so nicely, too, in this case, especially with the accompanying glare that Kira leveled at him—Shuuhei quickly recounted the conversation between Juushiro and the Scientist. "And it's not just him," he added helplessly, stacking three books on fire _kido_ off to the side. "I know you think I'm overreacting, but the looks have been getting darker for months now, ever since our last run-in with the Vizards. I'm not stupid, Kira. I knew when I returned the Hōgyoku to the Captain-Commander that I was never going to fit in anywhere again. If the Vizards find me, they'll try to recruit me again. If the Arrancar capture me, I'll be tortured, and if I'm lucky, I'll die before they can get really inventive. If I stay here…"

His hands lingered on the books in front of him, and he closed his eyes, fighting back a wave of despair. When a gentle hand settled on his shoulder, he opened his eyes again and stared into Kira's compassionate face. "If I stay here, they'll still kill me eventually," he whispered, fighting off the despair he could feel beginning. "Someday, when Captain-Commander Ukitake isn't here, and something goes wrong, they'll look for someone to blame, and it will be me. all I can hope for is a merciful execution."

"Oh, Shuuhei." Kira sighed and pulled him around the table and into a tight hug, stroking his black hair. "How long have you been thinking this? How long have you been living with your certainty that we would only betray you?" He drew back and touched the three parallel scars on Shuuhei's cheek, the gesture kind and comforting. His smile was soft. "Shu, you don't give us enough credit—or yourself. While I'm certain you have a dozen plans for your escape, I also think that you are underestimating the number of people who would come to your defense, should you need it."

Shuuhei tried to convince himself that those words sounded anything but hollow, and failed.

* * *

It was getting on towards midnight before Shuuhei finally made it back to the set of rooms he shared with Kensei. He had helped Kira in the library, then been drafted by Captain Suì-Fēng to help with paperwork, then managed to fill out his own reports, then gotten a firm, lengthy lecture from Kuchiki about turning things in late, and another lecture about not sharing the work equally. Then there had been another trip to see the Fourth Division and the healers there, and then dinner—though he couldn't have said which nauseated him more. He'd never had a very good reaction to healing _kido_.

Despite the hour, Kensei was still awake, ensconced in the living area that connected their two rooms. He didn't appear to be read, or working, or doing much of anything except for brooding, so Shuuhei, despite his throbbing shoulder and ribs and his bone-deep weariness, dragged himself over to one of the overstuffed chairs and collapsed into it, surveying his partner critically.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked after a moment.

Kensei waved a hand, dismissing the concern, and stared at him for a moment. Shuuhei's breath froze in his throat at that, because Kensei was actually _looking _at_ him_. He had never seen that level of awareness in the other Shinigami's eyes before, hadn't had all of that intensity turned on him since the short time when they were enemies. And it was _beautiful_. Kensei's light brown eyes seemed to glow like ashes over smoldering coals, or amber clouds just covering a lightning storm. _Kensei_ was beautiful, and though Shuuhei had been aware of it before, this was somehow different, _better_, because all of that energy and power and beauty was directed at _him_.

And then Kensei was right in front of him, leaning over with his hands braced on the arms of the chair, and he was kissing him, kissing Shuuhei as though he'd been thinking about it for _months_, and Shuuhei couldn't do anything but respond, reach up and twist his fingers in the white hair and pull Kensei closer, because this was what he had wanted ever since that first night on the riverbank. It was hot and messy and sharp with teeth-edges and burning desire, and Kensei drew back just enough to growl roughly, "You don't mind?"

Because hindsight was perfect, Shuuhei knew he should have noticed something then, should have seen the inconsistencies and oddness about the whole thing. But at the moment, all he could think was _Mind? I've wanted this for as long as I've known you, so how could I possibly mind?_ What he managed to say, after a breathless moment, was, "_Hardly_," and he dragged Kensei closer, feeling big, firm hands, calloused from his favored knife, fumbling with the ties on his robe. Shuuhei wriggled, trying to help, trying to get his hands free so he could touch Kensei, but Kensei had taken control and he couldn't do anything but let the other Shinigami strip him and drag him out of the chair, pushing him back down against the seat. Then Kensei was on top of him, hot and hard against his back, and there were fingers sliding down his back to trace over his entrance.

Shuuhei hissed as first one finger, then another pushed roughly in and then withdrew. When they returned, they were slick with oil, and he hissed again, this time in pleasure, arching back into the touch. "Kensei," he whispered breathlessly, as those fingers circled and scissored, brushing over the spot that sent liquid fire racing through his nerves. "Kensei, please. I want you. I need you."

Kensei's free hand rose, and Shuuhei jerked a little in shock as it slid over his mouth, stifling his words. "Hush," Kensei murmured from behind him, the fingers withdrawing from Shuuhei's body and sliding up his bandaged side to pinch and twist at his nipples. Shuuhei jerked, whimpering, as sharp spikes of pleasure shot through him with each touch. And then it was better still, because there was a hot, blunt pressure at his entrance and Kensei was sliding forward, filling him and claiming him. Shuuhei couldn't stop himself from crying out as the other man's length pushed deep into him, parting muscle to slide smoothly home, and Shuuhei swore he'd never felt something go so deep and not be pain, but this was _wonderful._

Kensei pulled back, then thrust forward again, and Shuuhei's back bowed, bucking against the stockier man as every nerve ending lit up. He shuddered, pressing back as Kensei set a hard, fast rhythm, each deep stroke pushing him hard against the edge of the chair. He'd doubtless have bruises in the morning, but right now, right here, all he could think about was the weight of Kensei at his back, the burning warmth of Kensei's free hand sliding down his body to grip his cock in a tight hold and jerk it roughly with each thrust. Shuuhei sobbed with pleasure, jerking into the touch and back against the Shinigami he loved, the _man _he loved, who had finally—

The pleasure was too much, and he was coming, but over the roaring in his ears, he quite clearly heard Kensei low shout of "Juushiro!" as he reached his own peak.

And Shuuhei's world cracked like glass, fissures of agony lancing through him even as he surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

Kensei realized, sometime around midday, that Shuuhei was avoiding him.

This realization was so sudden and unexpected that he froze right in the middle of the corridor, carrying a pile of new robes from the seamstress's workrooms to the quartermaster. And once he realized it, he also realized that he should have seen it sooner, should have noticed, because Shuuhei was _always_ there, even when Kensei didn't want him to be. He was constantly hovering, mothering, guarding, or simply nearby, and the sudden lack of that was almost jarring.

With a sinking feeling, the Shinigami began to suspect that this new absence had something to do with last night and what had happened between them.

Kensei knew quite well that he wasn't the brightest Shinigami in the Gotei 13. His preferred approach to overcoming a problem was to hit it with as much power as he could muster, and to keep doing so until it ceased to be a problem. He was blunt and somewhat dense, tending to overlook even simple things that he really should have noticed. Normally, he never worried about emotions or anyone's feeling, because they didn't matter.

But this…

This was something he needed help with. And, as such, there was only one person in the entire Gotei 13 who wouldn't give him a useless answer. Thankfully, he was on his way there.

"Love," he called, stepping in to the main supply room and looking around for the other Captain. "I need to talk to you."

"It's been a long time since I've heard those particular words pass your lips," Love said in lazy amusement, rounding the corner of the shelves and arching an eyebrow at him. "What have you done this time, Kensei?"

Had he not been an incredibly powerful Shinigami captain, and a grown man, Kensei would have fidgeted. Seeing as he was, he firmly clamped down on the impulse and faced his friend squarely, somehow already suspecting that this conversation was going to go very, very wrong.

"I slept with Shuuhei," he blurted out, and then winced. What was it Hiyori had once told him? _You have the all subtlety of a big wooden club._ Yes, that sounded about right.

Love's eyebrows went even higher, as though attempting to merge with his hairline. "Oh? So you finally realized that the poor boy is hopelessly in love with you, and not the Captain-Commander? Well, I'm happy for you both."

Kensei's world crystallized, and his mind went blank.

_Damn_, was his only thought.

* * *

Kira said nothing when Shuuhei turned up in the library the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that, though the Archivist looked as though he wanted to. Instead, he simply ordered Shuuhei about in his usual brisk way, and made sure he ate, and that there was always a pot of tea on hand. Shuuhei was grateful, especially to be left more or less alone. He hadn't confronted Kensei since that night, hadn't even _seen_ him since that night, and hoped things remained that way. It was a rather futile wish, given that they were partners and regularly assigned to missions together, but Shuuhei allowed it to fester anyway, because he was that foolish and that stupid for thinking, even for a _moment_, that someone like Kensei could want someone like _him_.

And then the new Commander, Kyoraku, returned from his mission with Juushiro alone and wounded, and Shuuhei's already cracked life shattered fully, and tumbled down in bright, glittering pieces around his feet.

* * *

"It was the Arrancar," the Scientist rasped, leaning heavily on Captain Zaraki's shoulder as he faced the assembled Shinigami of the Gotei 13. "They knew where we were going to be, and what we were doing there, and what abilities we had. There's only one explanation—someone must have betrayed us."

As he spoke the words, his gaze went straight to Shuuhei.

Standing in position beside Kensei, behind Captain Kuchiki, and with the other mid-ranked Shinigami, Shuuhei clenched his hands into fists, fighting down equal parts misery and fury. This was _exactly_ what he had feared. _Exactly_ what he had known was going to happen.

But, somehow, the knowledge that he had been right was no comfort at all.

"Commander, with all respect due to you, the presence of a traitor is hardly the only way the Arrancar could have gotten that information," Kira objected, stepping forward from among the other Masters. His frown was firmly in place, and sharp enough to make Shuuhei want to step back, even if it wasn't directed at him. "There are thousands of ways to spy with _kido_, not even taking into consideration the invention of new ones. We can't guard against them all. A listening—"

"Enough." The Commander cut him off, voice sharp with annoyance, pushing himself upright. "Archivist, your opinion is noted, but it is almost always the most simple explanation that is correct in the end, and I won't let a traitor go free when _our_ _Captain-Commander's life_ hangs in the balance. Shuuhei Hisagi, you are to be taken to the dungeon to await execution." He turned to look at Shuuhei, and his normally storm-grey eyes flickered to a dull, flat brown, just for the barest second.

Shuuhei froze.

_Oh, no_.

He had seen that color before, that exact shade of empty, derisive brown that stared back at him whenever he looked up towards the white throne of the Arrancar and Vizards' leader. And that meant—

"_Aizen_," he whispered, not caring about the startled look Kensei shot him, or the stiffening of Captain Kuchiki as three Onmitsukido from the castle's guard began to push through the crowd to reach him. He closed his eyes as everything came crashing down around him at once, despair fighting with tired horror for supremacy in his thoughts. _A plot. It's all a plot to get revenge—against me, and against the Gotei 13. He's using Kyoraku's form to manipulate everyone. I can't—_

A hand closed around his arm, as hard and immovable as a band of steel, and Shuuhei glanced up at Kensei. It was _his_ hand, it was _Kensei_ holding him in place for the Onmitsukido to capture. That betrayal, somehow, was worse than all the others. Shuuhei knew that Kensei hadn't been aware of his feelings when he used him for comfort, knew that Kensei had simply been in pain and unhappy, but Shuuhei also thought that he had been a good partner, that he had never let Kensei down or let him be injured if there was anything at all he could do to prevent it. And right now, it wasn't Kensei the lover who was betraying Shuuhei, it was Kensei the Shinigami, who had been his partner for two years, and that hurt more than anything.

And then there was a rush of sound, like a river bursting free of a dam, and every bit of reiatsu in the air condensed around them, whirling up in a great cyclone of power that knocked other Shinigami back with cries of shock. Equally startled, Shuuhei stumbled backwards to get away from it, colliding with Kensei's hard chest, and an equally hard arm closed around his shoulders.

"Hold on," the other Shinigami murmured, and with a flick of his hand the cyclone condensed under their feet, lifting them into the air and straight up towards the skylight, which burst in a shower of glittering glass to let them through and they were free.

They were also perched precariously on the sloping roof of the Meeting Hall, teetering dangerously in the wind, and Kensei looked slightly pale as he gripped Shuuhei's shoulder even harder and hissed, "Well? Are you a _kido_ master or aren't you?"

With that, with Kensei's familiar griping tone and pseudo-gruff words, hiding a kind heart and sharp mind—when he chose to apply it—Shuuhei's shocked daze broke, and he pushed down any thoughts but those of magic. Even as thumps sounded from below, Shinigami trying to get through the wall of reiatsu Kensei was holding in place over the opening, Shuuhei gathered his power and flung it out about them like a net as he spoke the _kido_ chant, then leapt forward to the edge of the roof and _dove_, pulling Kensei right along with him.

And then they were airborne, the wind whistling around them as they were lifted like thistledown and whirled up into the sky. It was no controlled flight, nothing like a bird, but they were _free_ and _up_ and _untouchable_, and it didn't matter in the least. Shuuhei took a deep breath and remembered for the first time in quite a while what it truly was to be a _kido_ master, and with that feeling filling his chest like sunlight and Kensei's rare smiles, he let the winds carry them far away.

* * *

"So?" Kensei asked, huddling grumpily over the small campfire Shuuhei had lit. "You realized something back there. What was it?"

In the process of cleaning a small handful of edible roots and turning them into something that would actually feed the two of them, Shuuhei paused in shock and glanced up. "You meant you didn't _know_? You defied a ranking Shinigami, the Commander, because you thought I _realized something_? I always knew you were thick, but—"

"Oi, enough with the insults," Kensei growled, holding his hands almost _in_ the flames to ward off the night's chill. He looked down at the ground in front of him for a moment, then said gruffly, "We've been partners for almost three years now. I'd like to think I've got a pretty good idea of how your mind works, Hisagi. Shuuhei. Whatever you saw during that bastard's little grandstanding speech, it was something important. Want to share?"

Slowly, leaving the bush to its own devices for the moment, Shuuhei sank down into the dirt, once more feeling those crushing waves of realization and horror. "It wasn't Kyoraku standing up there. It was Aizen," he said after a second of silence. "Sosuke Aizen. He's the leader of the Arrancar." He bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth, then asked carefully, "Do you know anything about the Vizards?"

Kensei's frown was thoughtful. "Only that they're one of the driving forces in the Arrancar Army," he said. "An old group, mostly the half-Hollow bastards the Arrancar's leaders created to fight for them."

Shuuhei nodded, wrapping his arms around himself to ward off the chill. "Yeah," he agreed bitterly, "and the only thing of any worth to them is power, even if you're only a Shinigami support soldier. Ever since ancient times, they've been the elites of the Arrancar forces." He paused and then shook his head. "Aizen can fool anyone into thinking pretty much anything he wants, with his power. The Vizards, like Tousen and Ichimaru, are his most loyal followers. And the Shinigami who follow _them_, like me, are equivalent to Captains in the Gotei 13, while they're the Commanders."

Kensei sat back on his heels, obviously mulling over this revelation. Shuuhei watched him, watched the heartbreaking play of light and shadow over his strong-boned face, and felt his heart ache in his chest.

"Why?" he asked sharply, unable to contain it any longer. "Why did you help me? Why risk everything on a chance, on someone who could be a traitor?"

"You're not a traitor," the other Shinigami said instantly, anger settling over his features as he met Shuuhei's eyes firmly. "If it hadn't been for the shock of Kyoraku saying that, I'm sure more people would have come forward to defend you. And…" His voice broke off, and he dropped his gaze, looking away into the darkness. He took a deep breath, then finished in a rush, "Youloveme, soyouwouldn'tbetraytheGotei13right?"

Shuuhei froze for a moment, processing that, and then said carefully, "Could you repeat that, please?"

Taking another breath, Kensei met his eyes, almost wincing. "You love me," he repeated, still fast, but this time understandable. "So you wouldn't betray the Gotei 13, right?"

"You _knew_?" Shuuhei hissed, coming to his feet as pure fury whipped through his veins. "You _knew_ about my feelings and you still did _that_? You—"

"No! No! I only figured it out the other day, when you started avoiding me," Kensei blurted, also rising. He raised his hands as though to ward off the slimmer man. "I swear, I had no idea. I thought you were in love with Juushiro, too, and that we could…comfort each other." He dropped his hands, and there was something almost helpless in his pale brown eyes. "I wouldn't have done it if I knew about your feelings, I swear."

Warily, Shuuhei took a step back, attempting to focus, and realized that he _did_ believe Kensei. For all his grumpy bear mannerisms and thorny walls, the other Shinigami was kind, and would never take advantage of someone like that. And, besides, Shuuhei had allowed _everyone_ to think that he was in love with the Captain-Commander, so it was conceivable that Kensei would think that his advance was actually helping both of them.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Shuuhei finally nodded. "All right. I understand. Just…" He steeled himself and met Kensei's light amber eyes. "Now that you know," he said quietly, "If I asked you to be my lover, be my partner, what would you say?"

Kensei stared at him for a moment, shock and something that Shuuhei could only hope was desire warring in his eyes. He licked his lips. "I…would say yes," he murmured.

"Oh, lovely! Now we can all go home happy. Isn't that wonderful, Shunsui?"

The unexpected voice made both Kensei and Shuuhei jump, and they whirled around to find Captain-Commander Juushiro Ukitake emerging from the low brush, dusting off his black robes. Behind him came the new Commander, Kyoraku, dressed only in his skivvies and looking quite put out.

Shuuhei gaped.

Thankfully, Kensei was more alert, and stepped squarely in front of the younger Shinigami, raising his staff to a defensive position. "Shuuhei?" he demanded. "Can you tell?"

"Easily." Shuuhei knew what he was asking—they had always worked well together, almost to the point of sharing one mind. He stepped around Kensei's body and let his dark reiatsu whirl up around him, reaching out to seek the tingling wrongness of Aizen's power working. A moment later, the green-tinged darkness retreated from the two startled Shinigami, and Shuuhei stepped back.

"It's them," he assured his partner, putting a hand on his arm, and then bowed to the Captain-Commander. "Sirs, I believe there is a situation back at Headquarters that requires your presence. Lord Aizen has take your shape, Kyoraku"—_and your clothes_, Shuuhei thought, but was too polite to say—"and accused me of being a traitor. Kensei and I were able to escape, but we all should return before things get out of hand."

"If that's what you call a situation, I'd hate to see your version of a dilemma," the Scientist muttered, then looked at Kensei's _kosode_ somewhat wistfully. "Ah, you would happen to have a spare, would you?"

Kensei gave him a dark look, then shucked off his _kosode_ and tossed it over with a minimum of grumbling. "Let's go," he said crossly. "I hate camping, and I hate woods. We're going back to the castle, and when we get there, I'm going to kick the imposter out on his ass and get some sleep. _Away_ from all of _you_."

Nevertheless, his fingers slid through Shuuhei's and intertwined, and Shuuhei felt his heart lift to exalted heights, nearly choking him as he squeezed gently in return.

* * *

Their return was, altogether, far less dramatic than Shuuhei had thought it would be. As Captain-Commander, Juushiro held the Keys to the Seireitei, and he had simply forbidden entry to anyone who wasn't loyal to the Shinigami once they were close enough. It was quite amusing to watch his former Lord go flying out the nearest window, Shuuhei reflected, and then nearly get drowned when Kensei made the river jump its banks and chase him. Aizen attempted to fly out of danger, but he forgot about his one-time subordinate's mastery of _kido_, and Shuuhei took quite a bit of glee in cancelling his wind control while he was over the muddy, silt-cover expanse that normally housed the river. The Lord of the Arrancar plummeted out of the sky and hit the ground with a very satisfying squelch as the rest of the Shinigami poured out of the Seireitei to see what had happened.

Somehow, though, it wasn't nearly as satisfying as when Kensei seized Shuuhei's elbows and dragged him into a deep kiss, right in the midst of the crowd.

"I don't love you yet," he murmured, directly into Shuuhei's ear, and the former Vizard could feel the curve of a smile against his lips. "But I think we can work on that, don't you?"

"Definitely," Shuuhei whispered back, wrapping his arms around the other Shinigami. "Until then, I'll just have to love you enough for both of us."

He was still smiling when Kensei pulled him into another kiss.

* * *

_And…more notes, because this story needs them:_

_This is not the world we know—either in reality or in the manga/anime—but it's technologically equivalent to our early 1900's._

_Yes, they did have boxers in the 1900's. If you doubt this, Google 'the Vintage Skivvies Archive.' And yes, that's real, too._


End file.
